In Memoriam
by ByeByeMissAmericanPie
Summary: Almost instantly, words began to form. Words of support. Words of hope. Words that showed no matter how much dark there is in the world, there is always, always light.


Godric's Hollow was a peaceful little village that seemed to be almost asleep under the thick layers of sparkling snow. Murmurs of villagers exiting a church were carried around by the light, almost nonexistent breeze. Music could faintly be heard from numerous directions; every home had a celebration going on inside, with bright trees in the windows and laughter echoing inside. Despite that festivities going on indoors, the snow covered roads of Godric's Hollow were silent and still.

With a loud pop that broke the calm momentarily, a family of five appeared in front of the entrance to a graveyard. Harry and Ginny Potter grasped hands after Albus and James let go of their father and Lily withdrew from her mother. As Ginny's eyes bored into her husbands, they seemed to ask, 'Are you sure you want to do this?'

While coming to this quaint place every Christmas Eve for the last nineteen years was something that Harry Potter usually did by himself or sometimes with his wife, he had never brought his children along. He wanted to wait until they had an understanding of what had happened to Harry when he was a baby before Harry brought them along; this needed respect and he was sure that at the ages of nine, eleven and twelve his children would not disappoint him.

The children were staring around in bewilderment. They were questioning their parents motives for bringing them here and trying to get their bearings.

"Dad?" Albus asked confusedly. "Why are you staring at- what is that, anyway?"

James pushed his glasses up onto his nose so they covered his brown eyes. "Looks like a war memorial of some sort." His voice indicated boredom.

Harry had already begun a slow walk toward the memorial, leaving Ginny and his three children to follow. Lily looked questionably at her mother, but Ginny just smiled softly and shook her head, indicating that no questions were to be asked.

The four Potters caught up with the fifth when they reached the memorial- which was actually not a memorial anymore. It had transformed into a beautiful, glistening statue of a woman with long hair, who seemed to have had a rather kind demeanor, a man with messy black hair and glasses, not unlike Harry himself, and a baby, who was fast asleep in the cold metal arms of his mother.

Harry reached out and brushed the baby's forehead, and then is own, almost subconsciously. Ginny was staring at the statue; hands clasped and eyes down. The three young Potters stood there silently, until James nudged his siblings and whispered to them.

"Come on you two, don't be thick. That's our grandparents."

"They don't look like Grandpa and Grandma Weasley..." Said Lily in a hushed tone to match her brother's. She spoke uncertainly, wringing her hands in front of her nervously.

Realization hit Albus. "Because they're not!" He whispered excitedly. "It's Dad's parents and Dad himself. They must have made this statue in memoriam, after the attack!"

"Obviously." James said at a normal volume, and walked up next to his father. He stared at the baby boy. It was hard enough to imagine his father as a baby, let alone his father without the lightening shaped scar upon his forehead. While everyone is a baby at some point, having that scar is something that was unique to his father; his father only. To James, that scar almost defined his father in some way. It contributed to Harry's physical appearance just as much as eyes or smile. Imagining his father without that scar was like picturing Harry with well groomed pink hair.

Harry turned around suddenly, a smile on his face and faced his youngest son. "Al, she had your eyes."

"They are your eyes too, Dad." Piped little Lily from her spot beside her mother.

"I find it more sentimental if I call them Lily's eyes." Harry grinned, stepping in line with his family and leading them further down the road.

As they passed the entrance to the graveyard, the eldest son spoke. "Why aren't we going to see their graves?"

The earlier mood of sadness almost seemed to vanish from the air as Harry began to have more confidence in his children. He swung his arms as he walked, looking down at the prints his feet made in the snow. Five pairs of first time he walked through here that he could remember, it was just him and Hermonie, and they needed to hide their identities. If they looked like themselves, they could not show their footprints because they would have to be under the cloak.

However, this was not the case anymore. His family walked on without looking back; not bothering to hide who they were. Harry had a puzzled look about him as he tried to word his answer to James's question. "I think you should see where they lived... and how many people.. still stand beside them, today, I suppose. I don't want you to see their graves because a grave..well, it represents death in a way.

"Next time." He said.

They reached the destroyed cottage and all three children let out audible gasps. Even Ginny had a hard time containing her's, and she had been there plenty of times before.

All five Potters formed a half circle around the gate to the cottage. Harry's eyes got noticeably brighter as he said, "Lil, you do the honor. Touch the gate."

"Er..what?" She was confused by the odd command and therefore did not react.

Lily felt her father's rough hand over her own, gliding it onto the cold metal surface of the gate. Almost instantly, words began to form.

Words of support. Words of wisdom. Words of hope. Words that showed that even though there was so much evil, there were these people, who took the time to go there and write words of encouragement. Words that showed no matter how much dark there is in the world, there is always, always light.

"You know Dad," She said, referring to one of his earlier statements. "They still stand beside you, too."


End file.
